The Job Of The Artist Is Always

Come Home To Men's Business And Bosoms.

Much Bending Breaks The Bow; Much Unbending The Mind.

Fortune Makes Him Fool, Whom She Makes Her Darling.

We Read That We Ought To Forgive Our Enemies; But We Do Not Read That We Ought To Forgive Our Friends.

Nevertheless If Any Skillful Servant Of Nature Shall Bring Force To Bear On Matter, And Shall Vex It And Drive It To Extremities As If With The Purpose Of Reducing It To Nothing, Then Will Matter (since Annihilation Or True Destruction Is Not Possible Except By The Omnipotence Of God) Finding Itself In These Straits, Turn And Transform Itself Into Strange Shapes, Passing From One Change To Another Till It Has Gone Through The Whole Circle And Finished The Period.